


A Completely Unnecessary Situation Caused By the Pruidishness of Hobbits

by stickdonkeys



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And the entirety of Middle Earth, As is Lord Elrond, Crack, Gandalf is a shameless gossip!, M/M, Who knew that sexual frustration could be such a uniting force?, or at least it is mostly grammatically correct, sexually frustrated Thorin, well-written crack?, who knew that sex was a good way of getting rid of a dragon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickdonkeys/pseuds/stickdonkeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the ease of finding privacy in Lake Town, Thorin finds himself extremly frustrated when Bilbo refuses his advance due to a lack of it on the rest of the journey to the Lonely Mountain. Despite Thorin's attempts to find locations that are suitable for the purpose, Bilbo continues to spurn his advances. This leads to Thorin making a very foolish decision to request a room for the night from none other than Smaug the Terrible. . . a request that Smaug actually grants? But what will Bilbo think of making love in the den of a dragon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HobbitFeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobbitFeels/gifts).
  * Inspired by ["Wait, You Are Supposed To Put It Where?"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/674384) by [HobbitFeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobbitFeels/pseuds/HobbitFeels). 



> Ok all, I’m not entirely sure why I decided to do this . . . I mean, I know what caused it, but I don’t know why I went through with it. This fic was inspired by a comment thread on chapter 19 of “Wait, You Are Supposed to Put it Where?” by HobbitFeels here on AO3 where HobbitFeels and I were discussing the fact that after Lake Town there would be no real chance of privacy and a well-laid Thorin would get mighty horny mighty quickly. As statement which led to this crackfic. I have never written one before and hope that you enjoy my first foray into this category.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing! (and am well aware that Smaug and Thorin would NEVER have an actual conversation let alone one about sexually frustrating lovers)

Frustrated: it was a word that Thorin _had_ thought that he knew the meaning of. He had been mistaken. He had never truly understood the meaning of frustration. But now . . . oh _now_ he did and he wished that he had never needed to learn it because _frustrated_ was the only word to describe him at the moment. Or the only semi-appropriate one. There were others, of course, but they were not fit to be uttered in any kind of polite company.

And what had placed him in a situation where the only words that aptly described him were vulgar, you might ask? The answer was simple and sitting across their makeshift campsite “on the doorstep” as Bilbo had called it and was none other than the hobbit himself . . . or rather the _lack_ of the hobbit, if Thorin wanted to be specific. For, you see, it was not just any normal kind of frustration that plagued the King of Durin’s folk in exile (and hopeful King Under the Mountain) it was _sexual_ frustration, and it was worse feeling that he could have imagined. Having Bilbo sitting so near him, so near that he could feel the heat rising off of his skin and see the green flecks in his eyes and the way that his breath misted ever so slightly in the cool night air from the heat of his body—a heat that Thorin had every desire to be wrapped in once more—was more than he could bear.

He _had_ thought that he had excellent self-control—perfected in years of being forced to be polite to those _men_ as he smithed their things for a few paltry coins—but he had been wrong. Or perhaps not, or else the hobbit’s protests would have gone unheeded as he took his pleasure from him. Why did it matter so much to Bilbo that the others were near? Did he truly believe that the thin walls of the inn in Lake Town had concealed what they were doing any better than a few rocks would? They hadn’t. _Everyone_ had known what Bilbo and Thorin had been doing. The hobbit’s high keening moans and Thorin’s desperate bellows told them as much.

 _Everyone_ knew. So what did it matter if they saw Thorin lead Bilbo to the old guardpost for a little release. They both needed it. The situation of sitting on a dragon’s doorstep was stressful enough without adding sexual tension to the mix. Or at least that was what Thorin had _tried_ to convince the hobbit of. In response he had gotten a glare so cold that it would have been able to combat dragonfire. And in an equally cold voice Bilbo had spoken.

“Thorin Oakenshield, if you think for _one moment_ that I am going to rut with you like an animal under the open sky just because _you_ need release, you have another think coming!” the hobbit had said before shrugging out of Thorin’s embrace and beginning to walk off, looking back at the dwarf with an exasperated sigh when Thorin grabbed his wrist. It had been then that Thorin suggested that, if it was the open sky that was disagreeable, they could always go a short way down the tunnel.

That suggestion had been met with a laugh. “Yes,” Bilbo had snorted sarcastically. “That makes it _so_ much better. Let’s forgo the open sky to slake our lusts in the entryway to a dragon’s den. We might was well walk into Smaug’s den itself and ask him politely to allow us the use of it. We would die either way. No, Thorin. We’re not going to make love in that tunnel. You and I _will_ make love again, once we have a _private_ room inside your mountain. Consider it incentive to survive.”

Thorin had nodded and allowed Bilbo to walk away but in the back of his mind, a plan was forming. A plan so stupid that it just might work. Perhaps, just maybe, the dragon could be persuaded to allow them access to one of the rooms within the mountain. Not the treasury, but perhaps one of the smaller rooms. It was this ridiculous notion that led to Thorin offering to take the first watch and then sneaking down the tunnel that led to Smaug’s bedchamber—leaving his sword behind since he knew that it would do him no good. He was pleased that the air grew warmer as he went, it would help to keep Bilbo comfortable once he got him out of his clothing. There was no way that his hairless skin offered much protection. The smell of dragon was a little off-putting, but he could just burry his nose in the hobbit’s hair and then the scent of _Bilbo_ could mask it.

After a sharp turn, the tunnel opened into what had been the main hall of Erebor, now filled wall-to-wall with gold, atop which slept a giant red dragon. Smaug was larger than Thorin remembered him being, but that changed nothing. Thorin wasn’t intending to fight with him, but rather negotiate. The dragon hadn’t noticed him yet, so deeply asleep was he, so Thorin decided that he would wake him.

“Smaug!” Thorin called in his loudest voice. “I desire a word with you.” With a sound midway between a growl and a groan, the great dragon lifted his head and slowly opened his eyes to stare at the strangest sight that he had seen in nearly a hundred years. There was a _dwarf_ standing as bold as brass in the middle of his bedchamber, weaponless and in naught more than traveling armor. Despite his distaste—or rather sweet-tooth—for dwarves, Smaug found that he was more intrigued than hungry and would hear what the dwarf had to say.

“Who are you?” Smaug demanded, his voice deep and reverberating.

“Who I am is not the matter I have come to discuss with you,” Thorin replied. “Nor is it one that I intend to.”

“That is a shame,” Smaug sighed. “It has been too long since I ate someone with a name. I had hoped that you had come to change that.”

“No,” Thorin replied. “I haven’t come to be eaten—not by _you_ at any rate. I have come to beg a boon.” At this Smaug laughed, a terrible sound that shook the walls and radiated through Thorin’s bones.

“Let me guess,” Smaug said wryly. “You wish me to peacefully leave the mountain and never return so that you and your kin can reclaim your gold and city. I’m afraid that I am disinclined to comply with your request. Prepare to be eaten.”

“That is _not_ my request,” Thorin said, attempting to stare down the great fire drake. This gave Smaug reason to pause. What else could this _dwarf_ want of him? With a confused sound deep in his chest, the dragon settled back down on his bed of gold and jewels and looked at the dwarf in speculation.

“What is your request?” Smaug asked. “I am not saying that I will grant it, but I will hear it. If I dislike what I hear you _will_ become my dinner.”

“I request the use of one of the small chambers off to the sides of this one,” Thorin said. “I know that they are of no use to you, your arm wouldn’t fit into them let alone your body.”

“You desire to live here, with me?” Smaug scoffed. “That is even more absurd that the request I had thought you had come to make.” Again the great dragon rose, his maw open and prepared to swallow Thorin whole.

“Again you misinterpret me,” Thorin said with a laugh. “I have no desire to live here with _you_. I merely wish to borrow one of the chambers for the night. You see,” Thorin elaborated when Smaug looked at him with the dragon equivalent of a sneer, “my mate . . . well he refuses . . . something about a lack of privacy. I thought that if you would allow us the use of one of the chambers, and perhaps leave your den—only for a few hours, mind—he might be more agreeable.” Silence met his words as the dragon stared down at him in shocked disbelief. And the Smaug was laughing again, great paroxysms of laughter that shook the very foundations of the mountain.

“Let me attempt to understand this,” Smaug said once he had himself somewhat under control. “ _You_ , a dwarf, want _me_ , a dragon, to allow you to bring you mate—who I assume is also a dwarf—into _my_ mountain and _leave_ to give the two of you privacy to fuck one another senseless? And you actually had the _gall_ to come here and make this request knowing that you would be eaten.” Thorin nodded but said nothing. The dragon had understood his request, now all he could do was wait and see what Smaug decided. It wasn’t as if the situation could get _worse_ even if the dragon decided to roast him before he was eaten it couldn’t compare to the fire that was burning in Thorin’s veins. And at least then there would be an end to it.

“May I ask, how long has it been?” Smaug demanded. “How long has your mate refused you?”

“Too long,” Thorin replied, to which Smaug snorted, a light sound.

“It always is,” the dragon replied sagely. “Did he know that you were _this_ desperate?”

“I doubt it,” the dwarf said with a laugh. “Else wise he wouldn’t have denied me for so long.” The dragon nodded, a quiet hum, almost a purr, in his throat as he contemplated the situation. Finally, with what was almost a smile—but was terrifying due to his teeth—Smaug spoke once more.

“I will allow it,” the dragon said.

“You will?” Thorin asked incredulously. He hadn’t actually ever thought that this would work! Smaug the Terrible was allowing him to bring Bilbo into the mountain for a roll in the hay. No one would _ever_ believe this.

“I will,” Smaug agreed. “Did you never wonder what brought me to your mountain in the first place?”

“We wondered but never figured that we would know,” Thorin replied. “We believed it to be the gold.”

“It was, to an extent,” Smaug agreed. “But not truly. You see, I had a mate, Lovely thing too, had such a spectacular tail flare.” The dragon made a sound in his throat that Thorin knew only too well—it was a sound of lust. “Anyway, one day my mate decided that she would deny me sex, said that I was not applying myself in the Withering Heath that she wanted _more_. I asked her what it would take to get her to allow me to mate with her and she told me that she  would only mate with me again on a bed of gold and jewels. So I found her one.”

“And she never came,” Thorin finished for him.

“Oh, she _came_ ,” Smaug said, a bitter laugh in his words. “In more than one sense of the word. However, once we were done, and I told her that she couldn’t have the hoard for herself, she told me that she was not actually interested in me _in that way_ and left with my cousin.”

Thorin winced. That was a rough break. Smaug had destroyed Erebor for his mate and she didn’t actually want him. Somehow that _almost_ made Thorin pity the great beast that had taken his home and killed his kin: _almost._

“I know!” Smaug said with a sigh. “That is why I’m agreeing to this, I would have you find out if your lover actually _loves_ you _before_ I kill you both. I would hate for you to die with his name on your lips and another’s on his. If he will walk with you into the den of a dragon for sex . . . in that case you know that he is yours.”

“So will you leave?” Thorin asked. “Or do you intend to sit here and play voyeur? He and I have been known to get rather _vocal_ in the throes of passion.”

“I have _no_ desire to hear that,” Smaug scoffed. “I have heard many different sounds from dwarves over the years; impassioned cries are not a sound that I need to add to my memory. I will leave for the night. Come dawn, if you are still here, I will eat you both. Is this arrangement agreeable?”

“It is beyond agreeable,” Thorin replied. With a great sigh, Smaug heaved himself to his feet and began the long walk to the front gate of Erebor. It was only after he was gone, and Thorin was halfway up the tunnel to fetch his hobbit, that the king realized that they now had their chance to retake Erebor.

He sent word to Bard via the thrush that Smaug was at large before he picked up the still-sleeping Bilbo and carried the hobbit into the mountain. Bilbo awoke just as they passed through the treasury, his eyes going wide in shock at the location before Thorin deposited him gently on the floor of one of the smaller antechambers.

“Thorin, what—“ Bilbo began only to be cut off by a passionate kiss.

“I managed to secure us a private room in Erebor,” Thorin replied once he was done, looking down on the hobbit with unadulterated lust, the look of confused surprise on Bilbo’s face making him more than a little uncomfortable in his clothes.

“The dragon?” Bilbo asked, his eyes still wide with shock.

“Gone for the night,” Thorin replied nuzzling the hobbit’s neck and leaving small bite marks there. “Have you any more protests.”

“None,” Bilbo replied, and like someone had flicked a switch, lust began to burn in his hazel eyes before he captured the dwarf king’s mouth in a vicious kiss of passion and want. Thorin had to admit that he was floored. He hadn’t known that Bilbo had _that_ in him. And it turned out that his hobbit had a few more surprises for him that night.

**ooOO88OOoo**

When dawn came, Bilbo and Thorin were still in the antechamber, having ravished one another to the point that Thorin had forgotten the dragon’s warning, but it didn’t matter. During the night, Smaug had been killed by Bard the Bowman. So it came to pass that the sexual frustration of one dwarf due to a prudish hobbit who wanted privacy led to the retaking of the great Dwarf Kingdom of Erebor from Smaug the Terrible. It was Thorin’s greatest conquest. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo discovers that what happens behind closed doors of dragon dens does not stay there by any means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the chapter that was never supposed to happen (much like this story itself) but Dream_Seeker requested a chapter detailing Bilbo's reaction to finding out that when you have sex with a king your private life is no longer private (especially when it leads to the death of a dragon and the retaking of a kingdom). I hope you enjoy it!

If Bilbo had felt self-conscious of his relationship with Thorin before, it was _nothing_ compared to how he felt at that moment. It had been bad enough enduring the knowing glances of his companions, but _this_ . . . it was too much. He had thought that he had grown used to the situation over the years; apparently he had been mistaken.

It had been bad enough when Gandalf had walked up to him soon after the reclaiming of Erebor and clapped him on the shoulder.

 

**ooOO88OOoo**

_“My dear Bilbo,” Gandalf had said, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement,” I knew that a hobbit would be instrumental in retaking Erebor from Smaug, but even I would **never** have guessed that you would manage it in such a fashion!”  Bilbo had stuttered in reply. There was no way that Gandalf knew what he had done to Thorin that led to the dwarf **chatting** with Smaug about lovers and Smaug agreeing to leave. It was impossible. But impossible or not, Gandalf did know and he was amused by it! Bilbo was mortified. But rather than deny it, he sighed resignedly._

_“How do you know?” Bilbo had asked looking up at the wizard in shame. If Gandalf knew what had passed between them, word had already begun to spread. He wondered just how far word of his exploits had spread._

_“Don’t look so distressed, my dear hobbit!” Gandalf had replied. “One of your companions took the time to complete the log I asked you for and it was included. It is not yet common knowledge, though I don’t see why you would be ashamed for it to become so. How many hobbits can say that they denied a dwarf King sex long enough for him to become frustrated enough to walk into the den of a dragon and convince him to leave his horde—even for the night. If you didn’t plan it that way, I would begin saying that I had, if I was you, because it was a stroke of genius.”_

_Gandalf hadn’t said any more and had walked away, leaving a flabbergasted Bilbo in his wake. Even if the wizard **hadn’t** told Bilbo who had written that entry in the log, the hobbit had a sinking suspicion that his dwarven nephews were involved._

_  
_**ooOO88OOoo**

He never had found out if it was Fíli and Kíli who had done it. Whenever he asked, they became obnoxiously close-mouthed or changed the subject entirely—which for Bilbo more than proved their guilt.  But he had soon had bigger things to worry about than mischievous dwarflings outing him to a wizard; dwarves had begun to return to the mountain. At first he had taken their speculative glances as confusion at a hobbit living in Erebor among them, but that changed after an encounter he had with Glóin and his wife.

**ooOO88OOoo**

_As the family of a member of the company, the arrival of Glóin’s wife and so—Thorin’s distant kin—had merited a private audience with the King and his Consort. Glóin led them in, beaming with pride and joy. His wife was the first dwarf woman that Bilbo had seen and he was surprised to see that the others hadn’t been teasing him; dwarf women **did** have beards. If he hadn’t spent so much time around dwarves, the gentle curves under her traveling clothes would have gone unnoticed and he would never had assumed she was female—though she was a **very** handsome female. _

_He covered his shock well and greeted her warmly, surprised to find that the hand that grasped his was every bit as strong and calloused as any of the dwarves he had traveled with. Her voice was also deeper than the voice of a woman should be—to his ears at least—though it was a bit higher than the males._

_He had watched for weeks—as stragglers came to Erebor—as Thorin was greeted warmly by the reinstated dwarves of Erebor and had assumed that the fact that they had retaken the mountain was the reason for their joviality, but that was blown out the window when Glóin’s wife leaned in and whispered something to him. Something that caused him to flush to the tips of his ears._

_“Thank you,” she whispered. “Now you have given all of us on **this** end of relationships cause to frustrate our spouses. Imagine how quickly Erebor can be rebuilt with such an incentive if it was enough to rid us of a dragon. Most of us have made a pact—our partners do not know yet—that we will not lay with them until there has been significant progress. ”_

**ooOO88OOoo**

So it was that Bilbo’s story became the inspiration for a sexual hiatus in Erebor that led to the complete reconstruction of the kingdom taking less than six months where original estimates had been that it would take decades. Even though Thorin was pleased with the rate at which his kingdom was restored, he was less than pleased with the fact that Bilbo had joined them (“Well I must show my solidarity with my new people, mustn’t I?) Thorin had been unable to argue against his logic, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t try. And when that proved in vain, the King himself had taken to overseeing and assisting with the work—driving the pace mercilessly. Not that the others cared, they were in the same position and soon Bilbo and his contingent were forced to literally pry their lovers from the work just to get them to rest and eat. Though they _did_ make sure that Ori—who was reluctant to do so—record in the chronicles of Erebor that withholding sex was a great motivational tool when dealing with dwarves.

But even _that_ situation had paled in comparison to what had happened nearly five years later. He had been asked to sit in on a council meeting. It was something that he regularly did at any rate. He had nothing else to do with his time, really. He had gone from being a well-kept gentlehobbit to being a well-kept King’s Consort. Thorin didn’t insist that Bilbo took a hand in the daily running of Erebor, but the hobbit saw no reason not to since Thorin had never tried to stop him. But this time his presence had been _requested_. It was a diplomatic meeting with the elves of Middle Earth—namely Lord Elrond, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien, and (the main reason Bilbo presence was required, though Thorin’s distaste for elves was widely known) Thranduil.

Thorin, while he had many _excellent_ qualities, was no good in matters of diplomacy. That was where Bilbo excelled. Where Thorin would give into his temper, Bilbo was better able to conceal his thoughts and keep his tone civil. This lead to Bilbo being required to be present in any diplomatic meeting taking place with anyone other than Thorin’s kin (who were _more that_ used to his temper and not easily offended by it). That day, however, it had been Thorin that had needed to calm down an irate hobbit, not the hobbit an enraged dwarf.

**ooOO88OOoo**

_It had been going so well. Negotiations were well underway and so far no one had said anything highly inflammatory (though Kíli had whispered something to Thorin that had sounded like “stupid tree-shaggers” when Thranduil had protested the lack of greenery surrounding Erebor even years after the dragon was gone. Thorin had laughed quietly but Bilbo had rolled his eyes at his nephew’s antics, this time the elf was correct. There was an amused twist to Lady Galadriel’s lips that suggested that she had heard what Kíli had said, but she took no offence to it._

_Thranduil, however, was more than offended. But rather than show it in outrage, he showed it in cunning._

_“Bilbo,” he said addressing the hobbit directly, “I will admit that I am a bit surprised that a being from such a green land as the Shire would consent to live here, among all this rock.”_

_“It has been a bit of a challenge for me,” Bilbo agreed diplomatically. “However, I find that the benefits of the company outweigh the loss of the greenery.” He smiled gently at his lover as he finished, knowing that Thorin would be reassured by such a statement. The King often worried that Bilbo was upset by living in a mountain._

_“I would say that you are right,” Thranduil replied, a wry smile on his ageless face. “I would say that you get more than enough **company** from the King Under the Mountain. News of your most **unconventional** method of dragon disposal has spread far and wide. I must say that I was **most** surprised to hear how you accomplished it.”_

_Bilbo started as though the elf King had slapped him. **He** had heard about what happened!? Bilbo was more mortified than he had been when Gandalf had first called him out on it. He was anticipating having to embarrassedly explain to the rest of the delegates **how** he and Thorin had gotten rid of the dragon, but when he looked at them he saw that they all had the same expressions on the faces: amused indulgence._

_“You mean that **all** of you know what happened?” Bilbo sputtered, looking from one fair face to the next and seeing the confirmation in their gazes. “How?” _

_For a moment it seemed that none would answer, but then Lord Elrond smiled. “I learned of it from Gandalf,” he said gently. “The wizard was quite proud of your resourcefulness, Bilbo Baggins.”_

_“We were then informed of the occurrence by Lord Elrond,” Lady Galadriel said with a gentle smile. “I must say that even in all my long years, I have never seen such a thing accomplish so much.” Rather than be cheered by their words, Bilbo’s mortification only grew. Gandalf had been gossiping about his personal life! And it had spread. The hobbit wasn’t sure, but he believed that for the first time since he had read the contract Thorin had presented him with he was about to faint._

_“And you?” Bilbo breathed, facing Thranduil once more. “How did you hear of it?”_

_“ **I** heard tell of it from a man of Dale during one of our trading negotiations,” the elf king replied. “Not personally, of course, but he was talking with one of my guards of the goings on near the Lonely Mountain as the shipment was exchanged and mentioned it. Eventually it reached me via my son, Legolas.”_

_At his words, Bilbo’s lightheadedness faded only to be replaced by molten fury. Not only did all of Erebor know, but so did all of Dale and Mirkwood! It was too much and he fully intended to march down to Dale and have a word with Bard about teaching his men the meaning of the word “discretion”. He was on his feet and out the door before good sense could stop him._

_“I apologize,” Thorin replied standing to follow his mate, “but I fear that I must leave as well. I feel that I would be better served to stop him before I am forced to attempt to repair whatever damage he does to Bard.” With that said, and without waiting to hear their response, Thorin fled the room as well with Balin on his heels._

_This left Fíli and Kíli alone the room with the elvish delegation._

_“Tell us,” Celeborn said speaking for the first time since the topic of Bilbo and Thorin’s romantic escapades had come up. “Is the rumor true?” The brothers exchanged a glance before they burst into laughter._

_“Trust us,” Fíli finally said once he could breathe again, “We couldn’t make something like **that** up if we tried._

**ooOO88OOoo**

But even that debacle was **nothing** compared to what was happening now. Another fifteen years had passed (twenty in total since the dragon had been killed) and Bilbo was once again sitting in audience with Thorin as they listened to various petitions from their subjects and trade partners. It was nearly time for the midday meal. There was only one audience left: an emissary from Mordor. Even though they had wanted to refuse him, they knew that they should at least hear what he had to say—if only so that they could tell Gandalf of the intentions of Mordor.

The emissary was a large Uruk. He was led, weaponless and armorless, by a contingent of guards to the foot of the dais. Thorin looked down on him, his lip curling in barely contained scorn as he waited for the Uruk to speak. But rather than speak, he stared transfixed at the hobbit sitting beside the dwarf king.

“So it’s true,” he breathed.

“What is true?” Thorin asked, his tone as hard as granite and nearly as cold. He didn’t care for the way that the Uruk was looking at _his_ hobbit.

“A halfling does sit beside you on the throne of Erebor,” the Uruk replied, his disbelief clear. He had heard rumors about the Halfling that had accompanied a group of dwarves and . . . “Is it also true that he refused to mate with you until you killed the dragon? And then again until the kingdom was rebuilt?”

That was the last straw for poor Bilbo. He could handle—however poorly—the fact that all of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth knew of his _contribution_ to the slaying of Smaug, but this . . . it was too much! How in the name of the Valar did an _Uruk_ come to know about the sex life of a hobbit and a dwarf!?

“It’s true,” Thorin sighed. “And ever since he has learned the power that he has over me—that they all have over us—we have learned that it is just best to comply with their wishes. No matter how ludicrous they are.”

“I know what you mean,” the Uruk replied, his shoulders drooping. “My woman used the same technique to get me to come on this suicide mission. Claimed that it would win us better positions in the ranks of the Dark Lord.” The two of them exchanged a look, filled with understanding and commiseration before it was broken by another sigh.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Bilbo,” Dwalin said—he was a bit bitter at the moment because _his_ wife was taking Bilbo’s example to heart and attempting to get him to allow her a cat. He was only moments from giving in, despite his allergy.

“Whatever for?” Bilbo asked incredulously. He could see nothing in this situation to be pleased about.

“Only you would find a way to unite not only Thorin and Smaug the Terrible, but the Uruks of Mordor in a common goal. Whoever would have thought that the desire to get laid was a need that would drive all races to suicidal lengths,” Dwalin replied with a laugh.

So it came to pass that Bilbo took a solitary lunch in his bedchambers lamenting the _complete_ destruction of his once pristine reputation while Thorin, Dwalin, the Uruk and the rest of the dwarves in their position (as well as a few men of Dale) sat down to have a drink and talk about the unfairness of mates that would use sex as a tool to get what they desired. It was a very long drink indeed. 


	3. Chapter 3

Time passed since Erebor had been retaken from Smaug, seventy seven years to be exact, but it didn’t seem to touch Thorin or Bilbo. Even though Bilbo was now 127 years old he didn’t look a day over fifty. Thorin had gained a few more grey hairs, but was mostly unchanged. No one could explain their longevity. As for Thorin, it wasn’t unheard of; he was old but not absurdly do (he was a descendent of Durin the Deathless after all) but Bilbo . . . hobbits only lived to be a hundred. But Thorin had no intention of complaining. Both of them knew that any day either—or both—of them could begin the drop into old age. And if it didn’t happen by Fíli’s birthday Thorin intended to step down and allow his nephew to have the throne. The boy was about to turn 160. He was more than old enough to lead.

This evening they were sitting quietly together in front of a fire while Bilbo read a book and Thorin looked over a treaty that he had received earlier that day. Suddenly, their peaceful evening was broken by Fíli and Kíli bursting into the room.

“Uncle, Bilbo, the two of you need to come quickly,” Fíli gasped. “You will never believe what’s in the courtyard.” At his name, Bilbo looked up. It was only the boys at the door; that meant that this was of great importance. Generally when they were alone Fíli and Kíli called him “Auntie” just because they knew that it irritated Thorin, though it didn’t really bother Bilbo.

“We’re coming,” Thorin replied before standing and helping Bilbo to his feet. The two of them followed Fili and Kili through the winding tunnels of Erebor until they finally emerged into the great courtyard. Perched there were two of the Great Eagles, with Gandalf standing beside the largest.

“Thorin Oakenshild, Bilbo Baggins, it has been a while,” the Eagle said, his eyes inscrutable. It almost seemed that when he looked at Bilbo there was something akin to hostility there, but it could have just been the fact that expressions are hard to decipher on an Eagle.

“It has,” Thorin agreed with a slight bow as he pushed Bilbo ever –so-slightly behind him. He didn’t particularly like the way that the giant bird was eyeing his mate and he knew that Bilbo would hardly make a mouthful for the Eagle. “May I ask what we have done to deserve the honor of you visiting us in our home?”

“I wish that this was just a visit,” the Eagle said with a sigh, a sigh that something within Thorin recognized even if he wasn’t sure why that was. “However, I am afraid that this is a business trip.”

“Business?” Bilbo asked looking up at the Eagle with wide eyes from behind Thorin. “What business could bring the great Lord of the Eagles to us?”

“I am afraid, dear Bilbo, that it is _you_ who has brought us here,” Gandalf said with a sad smile and a gentle consolatory pat to the wing of the Eagle next to him whos head drooped slightly in what almost seemed like shame.

“Me?” Bilbo squeaked darting a bit further behind his lover as the Eagle tilted his head in the bird equivalent of fond agitation. “What have I done?”

“More than you will ever know,” the Eagle replied darkly just as Gandalf clarified, “It is not _you_ exactly but rather the Ring you possess. I had suspected what it was from the first, but now I know nearly for certain. The Ring that you hold is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron.”

“And how does that lead to you coming here?” Bilbo asked dumbly. His Ring was evil? But it had been so _useful_! How could something so handy be evil? And why would that bring the Great Eagle to him? For some reason, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Perhaps age was finally catching up to him after all.

“That has to do with you as well,” the Great Eagle replied. “The Ring must be destroyed and to be destroyed it must be taken to Mount Doom. The original plan was to call a council to choose a delegation and send that delegation to destroy it. _You,_ however, have changed that plan.”

“How did I change it?” Bilbo demanded incensed that this bird, Great Eagle or not, would accuse him of mucking up plans he hadn’t even heard about. “I didn’t even know of these plans. How could I have affected them?”

“My _wife_ heard of the plan to have someone march into Mordor to destroy the Ring and felt that it was foolhardy,” the Great Eagle replied coolly. “She _suggested_ that **I,** the Lord of the Great Eagles of Manwë, should carry whomever was to do it to the mountain and make the task easier.”

“You refused,” Thorin said with a groan knowing where this was going. That was why the sigh had been so familiar. He had heard—and uttered—it many times before. Would the fallout of Bilbo’s actions never cease? Even the Eagle dams were following his example. Was _nothing_ sacred?

“Yes,” the Eagle replied with a nod. “And _she_ . . . _“_ the Eagle trailed off, clicking his beak agitatedly at the indignity his wife had inflicted on him, unable to put his shame into words.

“Refused as well,” Thorin finished gently for him when it was clear that the Eagle would say no more. His heart went out to him. That was the most unfair method of negotiation he had ever come across and, thanks to Bilbo, the whole of Middle Earth—from the deepest caverns of Mordor to the great Eyries of the Eagles—was using it. It was _dirty_ and _underhanded_ and his sweet little hobbit had started the epidemic. Perhaps hobbits _were_ evil after all. 

“Yes,” the Eagle agreed with a sigh. “Said that until I consented to put an end to the foolishness of Sauron and the Ring once and for all I could just keep myself company at night.”

“How long did you last?” Thorin asked with a wry smile. It had become the first question that he asked of others that had been wronged by the discovery Bilbo had made. Some had handled the situation admirably, their endurance worthy of commemoration in song . . . others, not so much.

“Nearly a year,” the Eagle replied tilting his head in a way that was almost ironic in his pride at enduring an indignity. Thorin had to admit that he was impressed; the Eagle had stubbornness to rival any dwarf. In fact, he had beaten Dwalin. _He_ had caved to his wife’s demands for a cat after only a few short months.

“We knew of the Ring before Gandalf did,” the Eagle explained. “Ever since we carried you and your mate, and once it awoke and she heard news of the plans it was old news to us. I _assumed_ that she would eventually consent . . . however. Well, you can guess what happened as I am here. To think, the Lord of the Great Eagles of Manwë reduced to little more than a _pony_ by his wife.”

“Join the club,” Thorin sighed, hanging his head dejectedly. The Eagle made a noise that was nearly a scoff. “No, I mean it. There is a club. We meet every three weeks to discuss the newest wrongs our mates have committed against us in following the example of _my_ mate.” Bilbo flushed bright red and stuttered indignantly.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” he said once he could manage it, “You told me that those were trade negotiations! You didn’t say that it was a support group! I should have known. Even _you_ aren’t so lax in diplomacy that it would require you to meet every month to renew treaties.” Thorin reached for the irate hobbit only to have his hand slapped away. “No! I’m angry with you. You don’t get to touch me!”

Thorin flinched and looked up at the Eagle with eyes that said ‘see what **I** have to live with?’ the Great Eagle nodded slightly. He understood. No matter how bad the rest of them had it since the technique had been made public; the poor King Under the Mountain had it worse. He was living with the original, after all.

Eventually the hobbit was calmed enough to allow himself to be loaded onto the Eagle for the trip to Mordor—with the promise from the Eagle to Thorin that he would bring his mate back in one piece despite how infuriating he was. Gandalf joined him and soon they were on their way.

So it came to pass that the technique that Bilbo had used against Thorin that led to the defeat of Smaug spread to all corners of Middle Earth and led to the downfall of the greatest Evil of the Third Age. As a result of this, Bilbo’s reputation was forever tarnished as he came to be known in the annals of Erebor—and the rest of Middle Earth—as Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit who became the consort of the Thorin II Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and who single-handedly developed the strategy of mate manipulation that led to the downfall of not only Smaug the Terrible and Sauron but the speedy reconstruction of all the damage they had caused—or Bilbo the Disallower for short—and was both honored and abhorred for his contribution to the well-being of Arda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK this time it is over! I swear it! I can’t think of anywhere else I can possibly go with this (unless it is into the support group and I don’t really want to do that unless you all REALLY want to see it) so as far as I am concerned, this one is now DONE!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for your support on this fic, I really wasn’t sure that anyone would be interested and was pleasantly surprised at its reception! I hope you enjoyed the last installment!
> 
> Stickdonkeys

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you think? I highly doubt that I will shift from writing angst to writing crackfics, but I would still love to hear what you thought!
> 
> Stickdonkeys.


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